Cargo Pants, White Shirts, and Bandanas
by Il fanatico
Summary: Short pieces following each episode, with plot line. UPDATE: The CONCLUSION of our plot line! Please read and review! Tag to 9x13: A Desperate Man
1. Nature of the Beast

**A/N: **Basically, this is just canon fluff, with hints of Tony/Ziva. It is Tony's commentary on each of Ziva's outfits that we see throughout season 9. So yeah, nothing really long or in-depth! Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **Don't own it.

She was a trained assassin that could wield her looks as well as the knife concealed at her waist. Thick, dark, wild hair, Olympic athlete's physique, and glowing tan...perfect in and of itself, no matter what she wore. But ever since that first day of cargo pants, white shirt, beige jacket, and bandana, Tony DiNozzo took almost unconscious notice of Ziva David's clothes. If asked, he could almost always recite the outfit of the day before, hairstyle and all, whether he had paid conscious attention or not.

"Aw, probie no-more..." Tony complained distractedly when he saw Ziva's new badge and identification. He had a lot on his mind, what with his "homework" and all. But, as usual, he gave her ensemble a nice look, and rated it a solid eight. The scoop-neck white shirt complimented her "no-lines" tan, and showed the right amount of skin. He liked her hair today, down but pulled back from her face. It might have been even better if it had been curly, but he wouldn't be that lucky. (Ray must prefer it straightened, one distant part of his mind commented with strange emotion...)

"I do not know _what _you are investigating," she said quietly in his ear, and he struggled to keep his mouth shut. He owed her, after that Jeanne fiasco, to tell her, but orders were orders. Although, as he himself once said in his youth, orders are given to be disobeyed, like rules. And with her leaning over his shoulder like that, he could very easily break one rule in particular...he forced himself to focus on something else. Like another of her white shirts and a tank top, with that hairstyle he liked. _Just tell her..._

A/N: I hope you like it! Please review!


	2. Restless

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

Ever since mud wrestling had gotten in the way of his invitation to a dinner at Ziva David's place, Tony DiNozzo attended the attraction less and less. In fact, he hadn't gone in almost a year now. So when he was presented with four tickets, he was hesitant. Besides, he was a man now, not a teenage boy with no appreciation for _real_ women. But it was a nice display of affection from his teammates that he appreciated, even if he didn't completely welcome their gifts with open arms. But when he looked at her, in a wide-necked brown shirt with a tank top clearly showing, and her classic cargo pants, he began to think that maybe, he would go, if she went with him. No, he was _definitely_ going if she went with him. Now how had he gone from not wanting to go to having the urge to get going right this moment? It must be those dang sexy clothes and deep eyes of hers...

She liked to wear shirts with low cuts, he had noticed. Not that he was complaining, she made them look very good without exposing too much skin. Today, it was a black shirt with an uneven neck and the standard cargo pants. Her hair was pulled back away from her head in a ponytail. This particular hairstyle never ceased to amaze him, because it emphasized exactly how much hair she had, which was a lot. And though he would say, if asked, that he hated her ponytail because he preferred her hair down and curly, he would never _ever_ say his hate sourced from the angst that was brought up whenever she left that much of her neck within a mile of him. It made him long for the day when a soft touch on that neck could be accompanied by those three words that he just couldn't bring himself to articulate.

**A/N: **Well today I was feeling in a sort of romance-y mood, which doesn't happen all too often, I'm afraid. And to those of you who may not be complete Tiva-shippers, I assure you that this is not by any means a romance/angsty story. And to those of you who do ship TV's favorite pair, do not worry, I think I can make you rather happy, if the show gives me the right clothes to work with.


	3. The Penelope Papers

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

Whenever Tony looked at Ziva's shirt, he thought of it differently. At first, it looked like she had a long brown bib attached to her front. But then, when he looked again, he thought, no, it was like the gray part was a pretend jacket. Sort of like those shirts that seem like they have another layer under them but really don't. Don't get him wrong, he didn't not like the shirt, it was just very...intriguing. He was very subtle as he studied the enigma, wondering why women's clothes were so strange. Maybe if he got a closer look...

The next day, it was a shimmery white blouse with a nice neck. He was a man now, so he wasn't trying to imagine what he might be able to see if the color had been slightly more transparent, but he did wonder what the fabric might feel like running through his fingers. Maybe even while his mouth was engaged in _other _activities. He just couldn't really get over how well white went with her skin...

A ponytail. Again. As he had already concluded, ponytails weren't necessary a _bad _thing, he just missed the wild curls. The beige blouse was unbuttoned as far as it would go, which compensated for the slightly high neck. Not that her being conservative was a bad thing, either; he really didn't like it when men gawked at her.

**A/N: **So what did you all think of 9x03, The Penelope Papers? Personally, I liked it, thought it was nice to meet more of the McGee family.

What did you think of the story? For KajsaVi, a dedicated reviewer, I threw in a little more hint at romance.

REVIEW!


	4. Enemy on the Hill

**Disclaimer: **This fanatic owns nothing of the likes of _NCIS_.

**A/N: **For those of you who thought these commentaries were short, I decided to add some shadows of a plot, setting up for a longer chapter, and maybe a one-shot!

It wasn't white. It wasn't tight-fitting. It was a deep blue, with _both _a low neck and back, which was not incredibly typical for her. Once, when she turned just right, and the light struck her just right, he could see enough under the back of her shirt to catch a glimpse of a thin pale scar on the left side of her back. Memories flooded his mind, and he temporarily could not concentrate, but the flashback ended as quickly as it had started. Although he did scramble off his chair out of reflex, and shook himself to get rid of the eerie feeling of truth serum that lingered from his recollection. Thankfully, no one noticed his suspicious movements, so he disguised it as a move towards the plasma and began informing the team of his findings.

The next day, it was a brown shirt not unlike the blue one from the day before. But this time, when she twisted her body, it was not a scar that he noticed; it was a strangely shaped bulge at her left side. It was long and rather rectangular, from what he could tell. He thought about what it could be; an extra magazine for her gun? No, it was not that large around. A printed and folded up e-mail reply from the Miami Heat? No again, he would've been able to tell if the guy had replied, wouldn't he? She would probably come in with a pleased expression, one that annoyed him as much as it reassured him. But it was good that the man made her happy.

Anyway, Ziva was not the kind to print out a letter from a love done and keep it at her side, under her clothes. What was that thing?

A knife. Duh. He gave himself a mental head slap. What was strange, though, was that she was carrying _two _knives that day. Six, or even five, years ago, he wouldn't have been bothered. But she didn't carry as many weapons now as she did back then, when she was a wild, volatile assassin that liked to play hard-to-get. He knew that these days she always had a knife at her right, he had seen it numerous times. True, it could just be because she was on protection detail, though his gut told him this wasn't the case. He would have to ask her later.

But his question took a back-burner due to the stress of the case, and he didn't think about the increased armament until he noticed it again the next day, though this time it was concealed on her lower left leg, because of the tighter, no-sleeved, turquoise top she wore. It made him wonder, the knife did. For now, he would leave it to the fact that she was on protection duty. But when George Kaplan was found, he would watch carefully to see if that knife was in for the long run.

**A/N:** All right so what did you all think? I have a semblance of a plot line! Should I continue with it, or revert back to short commentaries?

What did you think of this new information about Abby's background? SPOILER ALERT: I can't believe she's adopted! They cast Kyle very well, though, I think.

Let me know in a REVIEW or PM!


	5. Safe Harbor

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

Ah, women just seem to have this inherent good taste in clothing. Or at least, most of them. There was that one chick back in college that couldn't quite get the handle on "plaid doesn't go with stripes". And then there were those that looked good in just about anything. Like Ziva.

But most women do not carry knives. The recent addition was still there, he noted. The loose tops, such as the darker blue-green one that day, made it obvious, at least to him, that she had something to hide.

Yet, Gibbs didn't seem to notice, and _el jefe_ was more observant than this playboy-turning-almost-man.

There just wasn't a woman out there who could be the perfect match for their mighty leader! It was crazy. _And_, Borin's list of women was longer than his, Anthony DiNozzo, Jr.'s, own. There was just something wrong with that. Puh-lease. The Womenizer himself, _slacking?_ What was wrong with him?

Maturity, answered the part of his brain that was more dominant these days. Gone was the Womenizer, here was the Womanizer. This new man, who was sure to find that happy balance between seriousness and playfulness, was going to play to the interests of _one _woman.

Eventually. At the moment, he had more pressing concerns. Namely, the case at hand, which just going forward, and back, and forward, and back, and sideways. But also, as was ever-present somewhere in his mind, _the knife_. Another loose top on their favorite Israeli, albeit with a higher neck than the day before. (Which reminded him...was she looking a little skinnier these days? Or was her sternum always that obvious?)

The second knife was, again, at her right hip.

The case outwardly affected her, he could see. Would she be needing a friend to comfort her, or

a goofy brother to cheer her up? Either way, he might get more insight into the motives behind the knife, and get to do one of his favorite things; spend time with his partner.

So, movie night? He thought yes.

**A/N: **I thought 9x05 was very entertaining, definitely with its funny moments (the whole "stool" conversation in Abby's lab, for starters).

And is this moving too fast? Too slow? I feel repetitive and redundant with the whole "and the knife was still there" thing repeated, like, every paragraph.

Most importantly of all, do you readers want a chapter with the movie night in it?

Reviews are especially welcome for this chapter!


	6. Thirst

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

Tony DiNozzo opened his eyes in an apartment that was not his own. This used to be a common occurrence. These days, it was more like a once-a-month thing, at best.

But there were some things that set this particular wake-up-in-someone-else's-apartment experience apart. First of all, he was on a couch, not in a bed with a sexy woman in his arms. Secondly, he could very clearly remember every detail from the previous night. And third, this was _Ziva's _apartment. (That wasn't to say that he hadn't woken up on her couch before; but it had been a different couch, a couch from at least two summers ago).

He sat up, stretched, and temporarily lost himself in the events that had led to him being where he currently was...

_He had arrived just as she was setting a frozen dinner in the microwave. She had changed into more comfortable clothes; an old t-shirt and athletic shorts. She greeted him warmly, and he replied in kind, tagging a joke on the end to keep the mood light. "My super-healthy ninja, eating a fatty frozen dinner? You're becoming a real American!" To this she deadpanned, "I have learned from the unhealthiest," her gaze flickering down to his waistline, before allowing a smile to crack her smooth features, and a laugh to escape her lips. _

_ And as thus the night continued, with him determinedly forcing a salad down his throat while they eased into a quick give-and-take banter, laughing and grinning like the best of friends. He was secretly surprised that she had cheered up so quickly, but his gut told him that their boss had something to do with it. He had brought along a (rented) cheesy detective movie, and they had a good time making fun of the plot, actors, and absolute stupidity of the investigators. They sat on the couch, a casual distance between them (though, for them, 'casual' meant four inches apart instead of two). _

_ She didn't bring up the case, and he pushed the mysterious knife to the back of his mind. That night was a night for fun and friendship, for relaxing and relieving the stress of a tough assignment. When the movie ended (just before two) she invited him to stay, and he politely insisted on taking the couch, like the gentleman he was becoming._

Although, he did recall now that when he had arrived, he had glimpsed a knife on her left hip when she stretched to get a plate out of the cupboard. It was true that she kept several concealed around the apartment, so did she really need one on her? Yet, after she had spilled (or, rather, he had 'accidentally' bumped the table, causing her to drop her fork) and changed into a (slightly tighter) t-shirt, he had noticed that the knife had disappeared. Was she more trusting around him, he wondered?

Just then, his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, Gibbs, and the time, just after 0330. He took the call, and listened obediently to the summons. When the boss hung up, he waited a few minutes for Ziva's phone to ring. It didn't; he would have to wake her up.

Now, a hundred and two ideas came to mind of how he could wake her up*. (Foremost was payback from their undercover assignment six years ago.) However, none of these ideas led to a less-than-painful conclusion on his part. Although, he thought with a slight grimace, she just wouldn't take well at all to being woken up so early.

With a sigh-like groan, he got up and walked to her bedroom door. Carefully, he eased it open and peaked an eye in.

She was curled up on one side of the bed, all of the covers hugged around her. Dark and wild locks spilled around her head like Scar's mane*. He tiptoed over to about a foot away from her, and, in the interest of self-preservation, started out by whispering her name. She stirred, and seemed to almost come out of dreamland.

Tentatively, and with one eye closed in a wince, he reached out an arm, and then a finger, to tap her lightly on the nearest shoulder.

He had barely touched the hard round of her shoulder when she snapped into action, literally rolling out of bed into a crouched position to hold a gun aimed neatly between his legs.

"Whoa there! Watch where you're pointing that!" He used the same finger to turn the barrel towards the floor. She stood up, and when he looked in her eyes, which had been previously focused where the gun had been pointing, he saw that she hadn't completely woken up. This was just reflex.

"It will be pointed at your head if you do not tell me why you have woken me up so early," she threatened, an early-morning rasp making her voice harsher. Before waiting for an answer, she sat back down on her bed.

"The almighty boss man has sent out the GYG beacon."

She looked at him quizzically. "The what?"

He sighed. They had watched this movie already. He reached out a hand to pull her up, and she complied. "Like in _Batman_. Except GYG, for _grab your gear_."

"Uhhh," Ziva groaned, and Tony couldn't agree more. If this case wasn't something especially urgent...

"You know it's too early when there's no one even here to make coffee," he complained.

"And no one to make muffins," she pointed out.

"Oh yeah I made some nice muffins, too; get them while they're piping hot."

"We should have stopped on the way in."*

"Who has the time? We all got the pre-dawn wake-up call, after a 2 a.m. night no less." _And one of my best two a.m. nights in a long time,_ he added mentally. Ziva was looking good for only getting less than two hours of sleep, he noticed. The yellow blouse suited her nicely, and her hair was at least down, even if it was straightened instead of curly. (That straightening had taken _forever_, too. If he hadn't been so sleep-deprived, he might have teased her about taking as long to get ready as a normal female.)

"Anyone know what's up?" McGee entered the bullpen, just as tired as the rest of them. What had little Timmy been doing, staying up late?

"Oh hey, Timmy. Gibbs wants us to get a jump on Jimmy's bridal registry. Ziva was thinking his and hers salad tongs."

Ziva didn't even have the energy to deny it. "At the moment I can think of nothing but coffee."

"Ask," at that moment, their savior came down from heaven, bearing gifts of caffeinated goodness. "and ye shall receive."

"You are my hero!" Ziva praised, taking one of the proffered cups, each worth its weight in gold.

Ducky amended, like a selfless angel. "It's the Galahad of caffeinated beverages."

"..had a burger at the bar, chatted up the ladies, and then left, alone."

"Sounds familiar." There were numerous ways to interpret Gibbs's statement. He could be strictly talking about the case, or the man knew more about Tony's personal life than Tony himself thought he did. (The man must have his own gossip sources!)

Ziva looked at Tony, and he wondered if she must know, too. Now how did _she_, who had been here less time than he had, have more sources than he did? Because she didn't exactly dress to intimidate anymore. She didn't _seduce _her sources, did she? That just seemed so...old Ziva.

"Oh," he caught on to everyone else's train of thought. "Makes two dead cheaters with military ties, of course."

The Knife wasn't there at all throughout the length of the case.

**A/N:** I took FOREVER to update, I know. But I now have Office 2010! I rewrote this chapter many times. And can you believe it? The writers gave me something to work with! I almost fainted.

I left out the really funny 'yang' and 'Israeli parrot' conversations because I couldn't really incorporate them. But they were great!

*Another reason why this chapter took so long to write; I had at least twenty different ideas of how in-character Tony could wake her up. I had at least a hundred other OOC ideas.

*LION KING REFERENCE! …..I love The Lion King...

*I do not remember if she said 'we' or 'I', so I chose 'we'.

As always, please review.


	7. Devil's Triangle

** Disclaimer: **Not mine.

No.

No.

No.

It wasn't possible. It wasn't right. This couldn't be happening.

"Thirteen…fourteen..." His favorite victim and very attractive partner each entered the room, but he nothing could distract him at this time.

"Well, bald can be very sexy," she tried to lighten him up. "I have dated men with thinning hair, yes," she replied in answer to his question. (Have, and will?) But nothing she said, even with the nice business-woman look and V-neck top, was going to convince him that this was a crisis.

"Hi, Special Agent Baldy McBald here, want to go to Mount Baldy this weekend and do bald things? BALD."

He had so many things running through his mind he almost didn't notice it. Foremost was the very interesting conversation occurring on the other side of the door. Almost in a dead heat with that event was the smell of his partner's shampoo and her face a mere two centimeters from his own. And sure, he was still grieving over this morning's discovery.

So when his brain finally registered the strangely shaped object pressing against his lower leg. The Knife. Darn it. Obviously, whatever had caused her to abandon such a precaution had abated.

Back to square one.

And so, at the end of the case, all he wanted to do was flop down on his bed and fall asleep. But of course, his mind couldn't let him do such a thing. It had to think about his thinning hair, the whole Gibbs-Diane-Fornell triangle, and a dozen investigating strategies (for digging into the motive behind The Knife).

By morning, he had narrowed down the list to two almost-irrational plans.

**A/N: **I like the character stuff they're doing this season. I can only wonder when we will see our monkey-eared friend again…

Like? Dislike? Comments or questions? Review, please!


	8. Engaged, Part 1

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

Realization came as suddenly as the changing of deciduous trees; the casual observer sees hints of it, before there is an explosion of color. It came as a hazard of his position that he so often crossed paths with the King of Terrors, but never before had the facts become as lucid as they were now. Sure, he had confronted, fought, and even accepted hell's grim tyrant, but those distinguishable circumstances had always been overshadowed by some greater emotion.

The sheer darkness of that which identified her as a member of their agency only emphasized the bleak monsters wreaking havoc in his mind. He corrected her mistake with an inveterate response. She was worried about him, he could see. But he wasn't about to elaborate, not yet. Later, maybe, in a more secluded location.

Her hair was very long, he noticed as she rested. It had been shorter during their brief undercover operation together, if he recalled correctly. It mightn't have been this long either when she was left uncared for in Africa. And then he had to wonder, was her green sweater not making her hair feel rather static-y? His hair never even touched his shirt, and sweaters still made him all frizzy.

The source of these thoughts was from the list on his computer screen. A few of them concerned her; such as number twenty-four (Let friends get closer).

Short sleeves always looked nice on his favorite Israeli. Although, the feel of that soft, smooth, and tan skin on his was not as close to his foremost thoughts now as it was six years ago.

Another thing he observed (and liked) was the exotic accent that was slowly becoming more American. Such as the way she said "Fanniker" and "forest". Don't get him wrong, he did not in any way dislike the soft lilt; it was extremely appealing. Yet, she had slightly regressed in her knowledge of American expressions, like 'wheels turning' and 'bucket list'. But those were just some of the things that they loved about her.

As always, black was a color that looked good on her; it went with her ninja personality and caliginous eyes.

It probably matched the hilt of the now-ever-present Knife.

Ziva David was like an onion, he recognized while down in Abby's lab. Not that her scent made his eyes sting and water; she actually smelled like heaven on a regular basis.

But like an onion, she had many layers. There was the bad-ass Mossad layer, usually accompanied by cargo pants and combat boots. If he was lucky, he witnessed the super-sexy/flirty layer, emphasized with tight shirts or a dress. And so on.

Today was almost-normal Ziva, except…

"Number nine on the David language list, our very own Beauty of Berlitz?"

"I think of Pashtu more as number seven, actually."

Oh, their Ziva…full of surprises; some not as good as others, though.

**A/N: **I was not completely satisfied with this chapter, but…well, I got it in earlier than usual, so I am fairly happy anyway. Tony may seem a little (or a really) out-of-character, but I was trying to go by how he was acting. I also figured that you guys might want a little more Tiva in this chapter.

Did you all like Engaged, Part 1? I am looking forward to next Tuesday!


	9. Engaged, Part 2

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

Some women looked good in uniform, such as those "boot-camp babes" from six years ago. Then there were those women who just seemed as if they _belonged _in uniform, it suited them so nicely.

Ziva was in the latter category. Sure, the helmet and vest made her look even more petite than she was, but the desert fatigues brought out her Israeli aspects while emphasizing her bad-ass Mossad you-can't-touch-this look. The hot sun and dusty location brought out her natural tan and gave her skin glow like it never could in DC.

But in DC, she wasn't at as much of a risk of being shot, stabbed, or blown into little Ziva atoms.

One comfort was that she had several Marines and the mighty Gibbs on her six.

She had many weapons visibly strapped to her, and there was no telling how many others she had hidden. This was another comfort.

Yet, this didn't stop him from worrying that she might not come back from the desert this time. He may be overreacting and stressing too much, but he couldn't deny that he cared for her, and she faced a different host of dangers in a foreign country than she did doing her everyday job.

No. Think happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts.

Like Ziva, after she's helped Tony pull a prank on McGee. A mischievous glint in her eyes, while looking innocent, but obviously holding back laughter.

He asked one of the Marines over there with her to do him a small favor. The kind man was happy to oblige, as long as Tony agreed to buy and send a small toy to the Marine's daughter in the States (the price to send something overseas just kept rising!). Easy enough, and well worth the reward.

It came in one e-mail, with two attachments.

The first picture was the one he had specifically asked for, Ziva in full combat uniform. She turned slightly away from the camera, and probably wasn't aware of the picture being taken (or if she was, she didn't care). This picture was sent to the printer to later be put somewhere in his home (it was time to update his photo collection of the team).

The second was very different; in this, Ziva had a soft smile on her face as she talked with the two Afghan girls who had been tortured. Her eyes, even through the picture, shone with kindness, but he could see the anger and pain that smoldered within them. All at once, she was beautiful, intimidating, and happy in the presence of these children.

He printed this picture as well, but not with the same intent.

His opportunity came when their shift ended and she left the office. McGee had disappeared to the depths of Abby's lab, and Gibbs was nowhere in sight (although that wasn't saying much; the man could be a chameleon when he wanted to).

He walked across the aisle to her desk and took a thumbtack out of her drawer. And, next to the photograph of the fallen soldier, he pinned the one of her and the girls.

It was a reminder what could be, if she would just open her eyes.

**A/N: **I _do not_ mean to imply that if she has children, they will be tortured! I just want to make that clear.

I threw in some nice Tiva romance/angst, because I was in the mood to do so.

Did you like it? More advances in our Knife plotline will come next chapter. As always, please review!


	10. Sins of the Father

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

"Good morning, guys!" Ziva said cheerily as she strode into the office, dressed in cargo pants and a leather jacket. Under that was a loose shirt, of the color that reminded him of apple cider. Her face was slightly flushed from the "crisp and clean" air outside, and she was smiling. A scarf around her neck kept her looking normal, rather than a biker or something.

Since she was in such a good mood, of course he had to ruin it. Her face fell as soon as he plopped the files on her desk. Immediately her mood worsened, and she started glaring knives at him.

Whether out of the beginnings of revenge or actual concern, she questioned him about the past night's dinner with his father, which of course had not happened, due to mistakes on Senior's part.

He gave her a look that tried to tell her to drop it, and that they would talk privately together later, but McGee wanted to know as well. So her let the pent-up anger and annoyance flow.

Throughout the rest of this especially trying case, he had little attention for coworkers other than trying to get information out of them. Well, he didn't even try to get information out of Ziva. And, he did notice when Senior held Ziva and kissed her on the cheek. That bothered him. Oh, and the man did imply that he should break rule twelve and "sweep this gorgeous creature off her feet".

And then he was finally able to see the case to its close, and share a Thanksgiving dinner with both of his fathers.

Senior and Gibbs both insisted that Tony needed some space, and so he returned to his apartment alone.

Apparently, Ziva didn't agree because when he walked into his apartment she scared the living daylights out of him by materializing behind him.

"How did it go?"

"Jeez, Ziva! I'm getting up there in years and you're just taking them off!" He attempted to dodge with a joke. She merely looked at him. "It went pretty well. He hadn't actually left yet, and we ate some turkey together. For us, that is very good."

"I am glad," she said, and walked past him to sit on his couch. She hadn't yet changed out of her black shirt and cargo pants, implying that she had come over to his empty place right after work. Now that he looked closer, he could see that she had located his small collection of novels, and had been reading Thom E. Gemcity's _Deep Six_. A microwaveable dinner was probably in the trash.

Tony joined her on the couch, a respectable distance to her left but close enough that the side closest to her still tingled. "I don't know what I'm going to do with him, now that he's broke again."

Ziva was silent for a minute as she thought some things through. "I will help him, Tony. I can probably at least find him a nice but inexpensive place, and put him in contact with a couple people to help get him back on his feet."

"No, I can't ask you to do that. He is my father, not yours." He instantly tried to take back his words, but she quieted him with a finger on his lips.

"He is like a dear uncle to me. I will help him this time," she asserted with finality. He sighed, and carefully put one arm along the top of the couch behind her. The finger slid off of his lips.

"Thank you, Zi." Something came over her then, because she moved his arm off of the couch to circle her waist and rest on her right hip. They remained like this for almost five minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. His mostly concerned his father and what he could currently feel strapped to her side.

"Tony," she began, a thoughtful look on her face.

He interrupted her before his courage could be overrun by hesitation.

"Why are you carrying an extra knife?"

**A/N: **A cliffhanger! Sorry! Enjoy your Thanksgiving!

Review, please?


	11. Newborn King

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

Tony tried desperately tried to reel back in his words. He banished his courage to the dusty corners of his mind with a firm _Bad dog!_ and tried to appear composed. Ziva's jaw dropped slightly and various emotions flicked across her face before the mask returned.

"What?" she finally said, leaning slightly further away from him. He gave a sigh, starting to wish he had a time machine. But, he really did want an answer to his question.

"You're carrying two knives. You usually carry one on your right hip," he gestured faintly, deciding at the last minute that he probably shouldn't touch her just now. "But recently you've brought another, usually on your left hip or on an ankle."

She tried to avoid answering his question, and her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You have been studying me very closely."

He grinned in return. "Like I would for a chemistry final. I would prefer to say, though, that I am just keeping an eye on my partner's welfare."

"You doubt my ability to take care of myself?"

"The At-Work Ziva, no; she can kick-ass her way out of any fight. But At-Home Ziva…"

"So you have been stalking me at my house?" Her face got a (cute) slightly confused look to it, like when she didn't understand an idiom.

With a mischievous grin that assured he ignored the inquiry. They looked at each other for a minute, and she gave him a playfully-dangerous look, keeping up their pretenses of not having a serious conversation. He soon let his expression match the tone of his next statement. "If something is bothering you, causing you to feel the need for extra security, you know you can tell us."

"Wow, you really sound like some shrink from a suicide hotline, not the Tony I know. Should I be calling you Dr. DiNozzo?"

Several responses to her words came to mind, but none that would lead in the direction he wanted at this moment. Instead, he kept his eyes on hers, unblinkingly and waiting for an answer to his question from minutes before.

"Recently, I have been getting the feeling that I am being followed. He regularly changes cars, disguises, hair color, methods of following me, and whenever I get close to cornering him he gets away." As Ziva explained, her demeanor changed from joking, annoyed, and defensive to frustrated, exasperated, and seriously ticked off. Her hands were thrown up in the air, and her eyes darted around, expressing her point.

"You ran his plates?"

"There were none to run."

Tony thought for a moment. "Are you okay with bringing McGee into our little mission?"

Ziva hesitated, obviously ashamed that she was being spooked by a tail. The fewer people that knew of such a weakness, in her mind, was better. In fact, Tony believed, she might be wishing she hadn't even told him, even though it seemed a weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. "…Yes. But not right now. Tomorrow, maybe." Tony nodded. "I should be getting home now."

"My bed is yours if you want it?" She raised an eyebrow. "I would take the couch, of course."

"No, but thank you. I will see you at work, Tony."

Tony didn't get much more chance to speak with her, per usual, due to their case. A strange one, this had been. Gibbs helping to give birth, Ziva wrestling with a guy and falling into a Christmas tree (she beat him, too, though that was not strange at all); had he mentioned that Gibbs helped to give birth?

He finally caught up with Ziva as she was washing up in the women's restroom. Her green turtleneck had kept her warm, as well as providing a little extra protection from many scratches that could have been sustained during her brawl. It had been a holiday miracle that she hadn't been shot, he could infer from the recount she had told. Still, blood from a cut on her right cheekbone had dripped onto her sweater. In a demented sort of way, the blood on the sweater reminded him of Christmas, red and green.

"You missed some stuff," Tony commented, picking some artificial tree leaves from her tangled hair.

"Thank you." She set the wet paper towel she had been using on the counter in front of her. "Are you going to accept Wendy's invitation?"

He focused on removing more green strands from her hair. "Don't know. The end of an engagement is rather final." Her eyes dropped, he observed in the mirror, to watch her hands fiddle with the paper towel.

"You could see if things have changed."

"I could. If I thought I would be something more than an old rebound."

"Look at me, Tony." He looked again in the mirror, and met her dark-eyed gaze, though still softly combing through her hair.

"It is a decision that you have to make. I have learned that you cannot be always unsure, always second-guessing yourself. Such indecision only gets you hurt from both sides. If you want to try again with her, then go, and believe whole-heartedly that you want to be there. If you think that she is not what you need or want in your life, then do not waste your time and hers by going. She is but one of many women out there, though many of them may not be worth you."

"Well, what do you know, I think I've plucked an entire Christmas tree out of your hair. I really should get out of here before someone comes in here and assumes naughty things." With that statement that evaded a necessary outcome, he unlocked the door and left.

**A/N: **So…I did not enjoy this break from NCIS! I liked this episode, and thought it was very good. However, as a Tiva fan, I cannot say that I enjoyed the whole Wendy sub-plot (grrrrr, I don't like her very much).

What do you think of this update? The story has changed drastically from what I intended when posting the first chapter, but I like it, and hope you do too.

I will also soon be posting a very short post-episode one-shot for "Newborn King", titled "A Glass Mug". Tiva fans will probably enjoy it! (I feel really weird saying this, because I don't like to self-advertise, but I do really think some of you might like it)

Review, please?


	12. Housekeeping

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

Oh, the holidays; holiday "blues" McGee called it. "Blahs" were definitely more accurate. And he sure hadn't been the only team member going through blahs in their personal life.

They had spent several evenings together, whether physically or through text messages or phone calls, her acting as the open ear he sometimes needed, as a friend. Occasionally, she let slip a few details of her own, such as that she had not heard from CI-Ray in seven weeks.

He had to admit, when she walked in the safe house door that morning, he could have sworn glorious music played and she glowed like an angel. In her hands she carried the almighty savior, coffee, and sugary companions, muffins. In that moment, she made even a loose black leather jacket look extremely beautiful, and he could look past the straightened hair. And the smell of that coffee…he did not even notice the dribble of spit escaping his open lips.

He did not know what kicked his courage into gear, but Tony all of a sudden found himself very close to Ziva, making what could be taken as veiled suggestions that they had many similarities and could be what the other needed. It may have been the way she looked, how she acted, getting ever so slightly more inquisitive than she should be about EJ's whereabouts, or the way it seemed that she baited him with her annoyed comments about Agent Cruz.

But there was no way he was going to back down now; no, he was past the running away stage. Besides, this could just be a harmless, friend to friend conversation.

And then her phone rang. His timing was impeccably ironic, as if some psychic sense had alerted the CIA member that his girlfriend was starting to get outwardly impatient and irritated with his radio silence.

And Tony watched her half of the conversation thoughtfully and concernedly, resigning to the idea that their tradition of getting drinks after a case might be broken by CI-Ray.

**A/N: **Short It surely isn't that the creative portion of my brain has temporarily died, because I have this strong urge to write at least one post-episode for this latest installment. I honestly just don't know why this one is so short.

Did you guys like this episode as much as I did? Because there were parts of it that I absolutely loved!


	13. A Desperate Man

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

Things started getting weird after Agent Cruz got a hold of _all _of Tony's numbers; desk phone, work cell phone, and personal cell phone.

The man would call and call, expecting Tony to be the messenger pigeon between the CIA agent and his irritated long-distance girlfriend. Sure, Tony was willing to do it the first time, if only to be nosy into the couple's private business and find out what was going on. But after the annoyed look he got from Ziva, he had decided to not pass along the communications.

The third time Cruz called Tony, this time on his personal cell phone, the latter began his interrogation before the other man could say a word.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" was the pleasant greeting Tony gave. Unable to get a satisfactory answer out of the man, he hung up. A torrential tirade of mean comments and cruel but probably accurate accusations were threatening to burst out of his mouth if he heard the oily man's voice again.

Tony resolved to find out from Ziva herself, and had not been prepared for her rather emotional response, her eyes glistening in the hazy streetlamp light. What he heard was the missing puzzle piece to the motive of her actions over the past seven weeks.

"_He did not appreciate me, there."_

"_We kept in touch as best we could…tried to make what we had work…"_

"_No text, no call, nothing."_

Oh, the nerve of that man! Tony's heart seemed to grow like the Grinch's, and his hands balled into fists.

And then, right as she spotted someone in the building opposite, his eyes latched onto a black car parked on the street below, the light of those streetlamps reflecting off of a camera lens.

For then, he ignored it; they had an important task at hand.

When Ziva left to go meet with Ray, Tony began some investigating of his own. He used a technique Ziva herself had once taught him: he cross-referenced her cell phone numbers with ones consistently in the same area as her. He came up with three matches. Either it was a coincidence, or someone had assigned a team to track their Israeli agent. But who?

Well, there were the people Ziva had locked away in her time as an NCIS agent, their families, friends, and co-conspirators, as well as the same relations of the people she had killed as a Mossad assassin. Add in the number of people in the world who just did not like anyone at all, and you had…oh, roughly five thousand people, or more. Oops, do not forget one father with detachment issues. Five thousand and one people.

Tony then searched for numbers that all three people had contacted; a pizza parlor, take-out Chinese, and a Subway. Nothing of use.

Except for the multiple overseas numbers. Tel Aviv was the most called of those, other than a certain private number.

In less than a minute, he had a location and was in his car, racing out of the garage.

He arrived in time to see Agent Cruz call after Ziva, and bend down on one knee. He watched the words form that gave Ziva a flustered and embarrassed look. Unable to watch much more, and on the verge of being discovered (at the very least by Ziva, the eagle-eyed ninja), he quickly got back in his car and returned to NCIS.

Rather than alert Ziva to the fact that he had followed her to her meeting with Cruz, Tony took up a nosy guise and found out her reply. He was relieved, for more reasons than one. He wanted her to be happy, of course, but if his suspicions were accurate, then the CIA Agent was most definitely _not _the kind of man Ziva would want to marry, or in any way pursue a relationship with. That was the main reason, he told himself.

"I killed the proposal," Tony commented, knowing that Cruz had most certainly not. You just do not propose to your girlfriend after not communicating for seven weeks and then leaving her hanging at the restaurant; you just don't do that. And sure, maybe in his own proposal Tony might not have cried, but the story was better with a few added details. Oh, and _please_, the new greasy/oily/covered-in-gel hairdo was just not helping Cruz's case. And do not forget to already have the ring box in your hand before you go down on one knee so you don't look like an idiot fumbling in your pocket.

Even Gibbs's congratulations had a string attached; _If you think he's the right one_. Ziva obviously was not sure.

Whenever he had a free moment, Tony worked on putting together the case on his private agenda. He had to be sure he had the right guy before accusing him. If he caught the wrong culprit, then the real employer of the shadowing team would probably be forewarned that he was under investigation.

But then when Ziva looked like she had seen a ghost after the phone logs appeared on their screens, he began to develop another sneaking suspicion. He didn't even watch as Gibbs followed Ziva to the elevator he was so intent on his own search.

And with a satisfactory _ding_, he had evidence.

"Where you going, DiNozzo?"

Unknowingly mimicking Ziva from minutes before, he stood in the corner of the elevator, and told their boss, "Do not try to stop me, Gibbs, I have something to do."

"Where?" the man would not give up.

A steely look in his eye, Tony pressed the 'close doors' button, and at the last second pointed towards his computer, where he had left his windows open.

They arrived almost simultaneously, and if this had been a movie, suspenseful music would be building up in the background, something reminiscent of the _Jaws _soundtrack. She was already striding towards the private jet when he convinced the airport security to let him through to the hangar. He leaned against the side of the airplane in the hangar and watched the scene on the tarmac unfold before him.

Tony grimaced at her greeting of the other man, though felt no sympathy. Even though he couldn't hear their conversation, he understood from her body language and how she wouldn't let the man touch her. He wondered if they were here for the same reason.

Just then, his cell phone rang.

"Tony! Tony! Tony!" Abby said quickly when he accepted the call.

"What, Abs? I'm kind of in the middle of something here," he whispered, hoping neither half of the arguing couple had heard the trill of his phone echo in the hangar.

"Well, this is way more important-"

"You sure?"

"Tony, _Ray _killed Commander Burns!"

Tony fell silent, his eyebrows slightly raised. Hmm, that was an interesting development, and most probably what Ziva was so angry about. "I gotta go, Abby," he replied, seeing Ziva walk away from the tarmac and back toward the parking lot. He hung up without waiting for her certain questions.

When he heard her slam the door exiting the hangar, he made his way out to the defeated man sitting on the waiting jet's steps. Now would be when the threatening Darth Vader theme would play.

"If you've come out here to arrest me, I waive my rights. I don't care anymore," he said without looking up.

Tony said nothing, only picking Cruz up by the collar of his shirt and holding him against the side of the plane. "Tell me why you did this to her," he demanded through gritted teeth.

"I…I didn't mean too-"

"I'm not talking about the Commander. I'm talking about the team _you _hired to follow Ziva." Cruz's eyes widened and he glanced around rapidly, hoping the Israeli was not around. "Do you have _any _idea how much you have hurt her? Seven weeks, hearing nothing. Even more spent worrying about who is tailing her, making her feel threatened. _Tell me why._"

Seeing that Cruz was having trouble speaking, Tony lowered him so that his feet touched the ground and breathing was easier.

Breathing heavily, Cruz glared up at Tony with emotions that had not been present upon their last meeting. "I did it…because of _you_. She said you are like her brother, but a blind and deaf man could tell that you two are more than that to each other. I wanted…I wanted to make sure she wasn't keeping anything from me. That she wasn't cheating on me with you."

With a disgusted look on his face, Tony shoved the man to the ground and he landed like a sack of potatoes. "Then you obviously don't know Ziva as well as you thought you did." Tony walked away, fighting the urge to pull out his gun and end up with another Rivkin.

"Do you?" Cruz called after him, stopping Tony in his tracks. As Tony slowly pivoted around, Cruz continued. "You didn't ever think that she might consider marrying someone like me, did you? That she could ever love me?" Tony didn't reply, but wheels were churning inside of his head. He stepped back towards the man, who was still sitting on the tarmac. "We each saw two different sides of Ziva. The one I saw…if our roles were reversed, you might have done the same. Because the Ziva I knew, she would never marry me, at least not happily. I was a desperate man, trying to keep the woman I loved away from my competitor, _you_."

"I am, I am perfectly content with my life," Ziva said, turning her face away from him and blinking faster than usual. That was BS if Tony had ever heard it.

"But are you happy?" They looked at each other.

"Are you?" she replied, predictably avoiding his question. If she wasn't going to answer, he wouldn't either. Instead, they would do as they had always done, leave each other hanging and interpretations many.

Later, the detective asked if they were a couple. Even with his eyes influenced by grief and loss, he had been able to see what Cruz called "more than that".

"We're just co-workers," Tony laughed.

"And friends," Ziva pointed out.

"Yes, very good friends."

**A/N: **Well, how did you like it? I am sorry the climax and resolution came so abruptly, but CBS just suddenly handed me everything that I needed to tie up this plot line. I hope this isn't too sudden, and that I didn't make a brothel of it.

Let me just point out a few things:

This is NOT the end of this little series, just the end of the plot line. The series ends when the season ends.

I LOVED THAT EPISODE! Sure, it was kind of an emotional rollercoaster for Tiva fans, but I loved it anyway.

I really, really appreciate your all's feedback. So please, KEEP REVIEWING, especially for this particular chapter.

See y'alls next time!


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